He marks how well the ship her helm obeys,
How gallant all her crew-and deigns to praise..
His eyes of pride to young Gonsalvo turn-
Why doth he start, and inly seem to mourn?
Alas! those eyes beheld his rocky tower,
And live a moment o'er the parting hour;
She-his Medora-did she mark the prow?
Ah! never loved he half so much as now!
But much must yet be done ere dawn of day—
Again he mans himself and turns away;

Down to the cabin with Gonsalvo bends,

And there unfolds his plan-his means—and ends;
Before them burns the lamp, and spreads the chart,
And all that speaks and aids the naval art;
They to the midnight watch protract debate;
To anxious eyes what hour is ever late?
Mean time, the steady breeze serenely blew,
And fast and falcon-like the vessel flew ;
Passed the high headlands of each clustering isle,
To gain their port-long-long ere morning smile
And soon the night-glass through the narrow bay
Discovers where the Pacha's galleys lay.
Count they each sail-and mark how there supine
The lights in vain o'er heedless Moslem shine.
Secure, unnoted, Conrad's prow passed by,
And anchored where his ambush meant to lie ;
Screened from espial by the jutting cape,
That rears on high its rude fantastic shape.
Then rose his band to duty-not from sleep-
Equipped for deeds alike on land or deep;
While leaned their leader o'er the fretting flood,
And calmly talked-and yet he talked of blood!:

END OF CANTO I.

Coron's bay floats many a galley light, Through Coron's lattices the lamps are bright, For Seyd, the Pacha, makes a feast to-night A feast for promised triumph yet to come, When he shall drag the fettered rovers home; This hath he sworn by Alla and his sword, And faithful to his firman and his word, His summoned prows collect along the coast, And great the gathering crews, and loud the boast; Already shared the captives and the prize, Though far the distant foe they thus despise ; "Tis but to sail-no doubt to-morrow's sun Will see the pirates bound-their haven won! Mean time the watch may slumber, if they will, Nor only wake to war, but dreaming kill. Though all, who can, disperse on shore and seek To flesh their glowing valour on the Greek; How well such deed becomes the turbaned braveTo bear the sabre's edge before a slave! Infest his dwelling-but forbear to slay, Their arms are strong, yet merciful to-day, And do not deign to smite because they may

!

Unless some gay caprice suggest the blow,
To keep in practice for the coming foe.
Revel and rout the evening hours beguile,

And they who wish to wear a head must smile;
For Moslem mouths produce their choicest cheer,
And hoard their curses, till the coast is clear.

II.

High in his hall reclines the turbaned Seyd;
Around-the bearded chiefs he came to lead.
Removed the banquet, and the last pilaff-
Forbidden draughts, 'tis said, he dared to quaff,
Though to the rest the sober berry's juice, 3
The slaves bear round for rigid Moslem's use;
The long Chibouque's 4 dissolving cloud supply,
While dance the Almas 5 to wild minstrelsy.
The rising morn will view the chief embark;
But waves are somewhat treacherous in the dark
And revellers may more securely sleep
On silken couch than o'er the rugged deep;
Feast there who can-nor combat till they must,
And less to conquest than to Korans trust,
And yet the numbers crowded in his host
Might warrant more than even the Pacha's boast.

III.

With cautious reyerence, from the outer gate
Slow stalks the slave, whose office there to wait,
Bows his bent head-his hand salutes the floor,
Ere yet his tongue the trusted tidings bore:
« A captive Dervise, from the pirate's nest

Escaped, is here-himself would tell the rest. »

He took the sign from Seyd's assenting eye,
And led the holy man in silence nigh.

His arms were folded on his dark-green vest,
His step was feeble, and his look deprest;
Yet worn he seemed of hardship more than years,
And pale his cheek with penance, not from fears.
Vowed to his God-his sable locks he wore,
And these his lofty cap rose proudly o'er :
Around his form his loose long robe was thrown,
And wrapt a breast bestowed on heaven alone;
Submissive, yet with self-possession manned,
He calmly met the curious eyes that scanned;
And question of his coming fain would seek,
Before the Pacha's will allowed to speak.

"

The saick was bound; but Alla did not smile

Upon our course-the Moslem merchant's gains

« The rovers won our limbs have worn their chains. "I had no death to fear, nor wealth to boast, «Beyond the wandering freedom which I lost; « At length a fisher's humble boat by night « Afforded hope, and offered chance of flight : « I seized the hour, and find my safety here« With thee-most mighty Pacha! who can fear? »

« How speed the outlaws? stand they well prepared, << Their plundered wealth, and robber's rock, to guard?

Dream they of this our preparation, doomed
To view with fire their scorpion nest consumed? »

Pacha! the fettered captive's mourning eye

« That weeps for flight, but ill can play the spy;

•

I only heard the reckless waters roar,

"Those waves that would not bear me from the shore;

« I only marked the glorious sun and sky,

« Too bright-too blue-for my captivity;

« And felt that all which Freedom's bosom cheers « Must break my chain before it dried my tears. «This may'st thou judge, at least, from my escape,.

་་

They little deem of aught in peril's shape;

« Else vainly had I prayed or sought the chance «That leads me here-if eyed with vigilance :: «The careless guard that did not see me fly,

May watch as idly when thy power is nigh:

. Pacha!-my limbs are faint-and nature craves-
Food for my hunger, rest from tossing waves;
"Permit my absence-peace be with thee! Peace
With all around!--now grant reposé-release. >>

Stay, Dervise! I have more to question-stay, "I do command thee-sit-dost hear?-obey! «More I must ask, and food the slaves shall bring; Thou shalt not pine where all are banqueting: The supper done-prepare thee to reply,

་་

Clearly and full-I love not mystery. »

'Twere vain to guess what shook the pious man,
Who looked not lovingly on that Divan,
Nor showed high relish for the banquet prest,-
And less respect for every fellow guest.
'Twas but a moment's peevish hectic past
Along his cheek, and tranquillized as fast: